


only fools rush in

by mad_magic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:02:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_magic/pseuds/mad_magic
Summary: “You booked a full cruise to the Caribbean this week. Are you going to let it go to waste?”Clarke scoffs. “Well, I’m not going on a honeymoon cruise by myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve had enough humiliation to last a lifetime.”“You don’t have to go by yourself. I’ll go with you.”...After Clarke is left at the altar, Bellamy suggests they go on her honeymoon together. Just two platonic best friends posing as a newlywed couple.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 35
Kudos: 489





	only fools rush in

**Author's Note:**

> Hi babes. This is a fun oneshot idea I've had for a while, so I'm excited it's finally done. 
> 
> Here's the [Fic Title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npwHNcGqueE)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Bellamy finds her in her hiding spot. 

It doesn’t take long, once he realized that Clarke had fled from the venue. She took the town car that was supposed to escort her and Lexa to the reception, slipping away before anyone could accost her with questions and left Mrs. Griffin to announce that the wedding had been canceled. 

Bellamy doesn’t blame her. He understands his best friend’s urge to run away, even if it has frustrated him in the past. No, all of his blame is targeted at the woman that left Clarke at the altar. 

He has to swallow back the hot anger that rises in his throat, simmering in his blood. Now isn’t the time for it. Clarke needs him. 

He finds her at her parents’ house. Bellamy uses the spare key Clarke gave him years ago to let himself inside. Mrs. Griffin probably wouldn’t like that he still has it when Clarke no longer lives here, but that only makes him smirk to himself. He’s not giving the key back. 

If his instincts hadn’t led him there, Bellamy would know he was right as soon as he reached the landing on the second floor. Clarke has left a trail behind her, like breadcrumbs in a fairy tale. 

Her bridal bouquet has been torn apart, leaving a path of scattered flower petals. Her wedding dress is a heap on the bathroom floor. And he can hear her cell phone buzzing from inside the bathtub where she had discarded it sometime after coming here. 

Bellamy steps inside Clarke’s old bedroom. He doesn’t dwell on the nostalgia that hits him, too focused on his best friend. He strides over to the bookcase and slides the panel aside, revealing the hidden nook. 

“Hey, Princess.” 

Clarke glances up at him. Her eyes are puffy and red from crying. There are smudges of mascara under her eyes and she has on sweatpants with an old, ratty shirt that belonged to her dad.

But god, she still looks beautiful. Beautiful and heartbreakingly sad. 

“I’m never leaving this room,” Clarke tells him.

Bellamy presses his lips together to kill his smile. The stubborn set of her jaw is endearing.

“I’ll have to come visit you then. Bring you snacks.” 

Clarke’s dad built her the reading nook as a birthday present when she was younger. He knows it’s her favorite place in the world. He isn’t surprised this is where she chose to hide after what happened today. 

“I should have known.” 

Immediately, he shakes his head. “You couldn’t have.” 

“I _should_ have,” Clarke argues. Her voice cracks. “All the signs were there. I ignored them because I wanted it to work so badly.” 

Bellamy’s anger kicks up again, pounding in his chest. How could Lexa do this to her? Leave the woman she was supposed to _love_ so callously? He’ll never understand it.

All he knows is seeing Clarke like this—so small and broken, makes him want to rip something apart with his hands. 

“This isn’t your fault, Clarke,” Bellamy says fiercely. “You trusted her. You loved her. She betrayed all of that today.” 

Tears pool in her eyes. He feels helpless to stop them. 

“What am I supposed to do, Bell?” She shakes her head, looking lost. “How can I face anyone now? She humiliated me.” 

Bellamy kneels in front of the nook. Gently, his thumb swipes away the tears streaking her face. She leans into his touch and a crack appears in his heart, at how desperate she is for comfort. 

“Bell,” Clarke whispers through trembling lips. 

“I’m here,” he answers. “It’s going to be okay, Princess.” 

He has no way of promising that. But Bellamy will do anything he can to make it true. He can’t stand the sight of Clarke in pain. If there is a way to ease her hurt, he’ll find it. 

Clarke crumbles into his arms and Bellamy holds her, cradling her against his chest. She presses her face into his neck as she sobs. He clutches at her hair, a storm of emotions brewing inside him. He aches silently. 

Bellamy holds her until her cries soften into sniffling. Then, he scoops her up and carries her over to the bed, laying her down gently.

Her head droops against the pillow. She looks exhausted, drained from the day’s toll on her. 

He leaves her there a minute to clean up the mess in the hallway. She shouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning. He retrieves her phone from the tub, filled with unanswered texts and calls, and turns it off before he sets it on the nightstand. 

Clarke blinks up at him drowsily when he leans down to touch her cheek.

“Can I get you anything? Some tea?”

She shakes her head. “Stay with me? I don’t want to be alone.” 

The lights are flicked off. He slips off his shoes and removes his jacket before climbing in next to her. Bellamy faces her on his side, able to make out her outline in the dark.

Clarke stares up at the ceiling as tears drip down her cheeks. 

“You’re not alone, Clarke,” he murmurs. 

“How long is it going to feel like this, Bell?” 

“Not forever.” 

If there’s a truth he can share about heartache and pain, it’s that the burden gets easier to bear, with time. Bellamy knows that much. 

What he doesn’t know is if his words bring Clarke any sense of comfort. Her heart may not ache forever, but she still has to feel it now. 

Eventually, her eyes close. She turns on her side to tuck herself against him. Bellamy folds his arms around her, listening to her quiet breaths until sleep tugs him away. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

They go to breakfast the next morning. At Clarke’s request, Bellamy smuggles her out of the house and into his truck parked outside before her parents wake up. She can’t bear to face them yet, their disappointment and their pity. 

Her mother is going to be insufferable about the wasted money spent on Clarke’s dream wedding. All for nothing. 

The only person Clarke can be around right now is Bellamy. Her rock. She doesn’t have to put on a front with him and pretend to be okay. Clarke can just _be_. 

His comfort is welcome without being smothering. Bellamy doesn’t force a conversation at the diner, just orders her a coffee and their usual. A stack of blueberry pancakes, which they share. He eats his half and lets Clarke stare listlessly into her coffee, her half untouched. 

A phone vibrates on the table. Bellamy glances at the screen, frowning before he taps a button to ignore the call. 

“Octavia?” Clarke guesses. 

His head shakes. “No, it’s Gina.” 

Oh. Right. His date to the wedding-that-wasn’t. 

Clarke feels a dull stab of guilt. She sighs. “I’m sorry. You’ve been busy babysitting me. If you have to go—”

“I don’t,” he says simply. Bellamy turns over his phone and resumes eating his pancakes. 

He must sense her watching him worriedly because he changes the subject before she can ask about him and Gina. “What do you want to do today?” 

“Nothing.” She sucks down the rest of her coffee, which has turned lukewarm. Her lips shape a bitter smile. “I’m supposed to be on a flight to Ft. Lauderdale in two hours.” 

The thought of what the day _should_ be darkens her mood. She and Lexa should have woken up together in the honeymoon suite. They should be at brunch with her parents at the hotel. Instead, Clarke has no idea where her ex-fiancée is right now. 

A part of her wishes Lexa is miserable and alone in their apartment. Calling Clarke’s phone repeatedly to say she made a terrible mistake. But the other part of her that is more firmly rooted in reality knows better. 

Lexa walked away and didn’t look back. She isn’t the type of woman to make decisions on a whim. Lexa knows what she wants—and that _isn’t_ marrying Clarke. 

Bellamy set down his fork, thinking to himself. “Why don’t you come back to my place? No one will bother you there. You can veg on the couch all day if you want.” 

The offer is tempting. The last thing Clarke wants is to go back to her and Lexa’s apartment, still decorated with their life together.

Camping out at her parents’ house is less than appealing. She’ll have to deal with their questions of _what’s next?_ What are doing to do _now,_ Clarke?

She has no answers. But Clarke can’t keep Bellamy to herself all day, as much as she longs to. He has a life to get back to. A job and a sweet, funny girl waiting for him. 

“Go be with Gina, Bell,” she urges him. “I’m not going to be good company today. There’s no reason you have to be miserable with me.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” His dark eyes blaze at her with that stubborn Blake determination. “That’s what best friends are for, right? We can be miserable together.” 

Clarke’s throat squeezes with gratitude. She doesn’t deserve him. “You know; I think you’re the only person in my life that’s never let me down.” 

Bellamy’s head ducks, flustered by her words. He’s never been able to take a compliment well. Color tints his tan cheeks and Clarke can’t help but think of how adorable he looks. 

He clears his throat. “What about your honeymoon?”

Her brow wrinkles in confusion. “What about it?” 

“You booked a full cruise to the Caribbean this week. Are you going to let it go to waste?” 

Clarke scoffs. “Well, I’m not going on a honeymoon cruise by myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve had enough humiliation to last a lifetime.” 

Bellamy tilts his head as he considers something. She can see an idea forming behind his eyes. “You don’t have to go by yourself. I’ll go with you.” 

She stares at him. “What?” 

Bellamy nods, his voice getting a kick of excitement. “Yeah. We’ll go on the cruise. You can get away from all the shit here for a bit and the trip won’t be a waste. Win-win.” 

“Slow down, buddy.” Clarke struggles to keep up with him. “What about your students? You’re supposed to work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll call in a sub,” he replies, shrugging. “I haven’t taken a vacation this year. The school can’t say no to that.” 

Well, Clarke won’t begrudge him a vacation. Bellamy rarely takes a sick day unless she or Octavia makes him. He definitely deserves a break from all the grading and his hormonal teenage students. 

“Sure,” she agrees. “But what about Gina? Is she going to be cool with you going on a cruise with another woman?” 

Bellamy falters. His eyes drop to his coffee mug and he’s quiet for a few moments. “I don’t think things are going to work out with us anyway.” 

Clarke frowns. “Why not?” 

They looked cozy enough at the rehearsal dinner a few nights ago. Out of all the dates of his that Clarke has met, Gina has been her favorite so far. She likes the way the girl playfully teased Bellamy and got him to dance with her after dinner. 

A muscle ticks in Bellamy’s jaw. “I guess my heart wasn’t in it. She’s not…the right person.” 

Clarke feels like a horrible friend for not realizing it sooner. Bellamy isn’t as okay as she thought. His misery rises the surface then, no longer buried down. It twists a knife in her gut to see him upset. She would do anything to ease his hurt. 

“Bell, I’m sorry. You’re going to find that right person. I _know_ you will.” 

Bellamy stares at her, his brown eyes intense. “You still believe that after what happened?” 

Clarke has seen real love in front of her. She hasn’t stopped believing in its existence just because her heart has been broken. First, by her ex-boyfriend Finn. Now, by Lexa. She’s no stranger to heartbreak. 

But under her misery, Clarke remembers the good parts about love. The memory of her parents’ love. And watching her mother find happiness again with Marcus. 

“Yeah, I do,” she says. “You’ve got such a big heart, Bellamy. You deserve love more than anyone else I know.” 

His voice is low, almost awed when he speaks again. “Thanks, Princess.” 

“So. You think this cruise is a good idea?” 

Bellamy shrugs. “I’ve had worse ideas. We’ve survived those, haven’t we?” 

Clarke lets out a laugh. It’s faint, but she didn’t think she _could_ laugh at this point. 

“Fair point. Let’s go.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Bellamy hates flying. She can’t believe she forgot that detail when she agreed to this trip. 

The plane rattles from some turbulence and Bellamy’s knuckles whiten from their tight grip on the armrest. His teeth are gritted like he’s bracing himself for death. 

Clarke reaches out to lay her hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. Just stop thinking about it.” 

Bellamy huffs through his nose. “How am I supposed to do that? We’re thirty thousand feet in the air!” 

There’s another jolt of turbulence. Her best friend jumps in his seat, then he grimaces like he’s upset with himself for having a rational fear that many other people have. Bellamy has always been too hard on himself. 

“Look at me.” 

Bellamy turns his face to meet her eye. She hates the fear she sees stark in his gaze. 

Clarke gives him a comforting smile. “Remember the Cove?” 

Eden Cove is the small beach about a mile away from the Blakes’ home where Bellamy and Octavia grew up. Clarke spent a lot of her adolescence there as well.

In so many ways, it was _their_ beach. She and Bellamy used to sneak out for midnight swims and had the water all to themselves.

Hearing the name, she can see the fear fading from Bellamy as he thinks about the beach instead.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I miss it.” 

“Me too. Remember when you taught me how to swim?” 

That memory is one that Clarke cherishes. Her dad passed away before she had the chance to learn from him. Bellamy offered to take her down the Cove and teach her the way he taught Octavia. She jumped at the offer. 

Clarke remembers being fourteen, floating on the surface of the cool water as Bellamy’s large hands held her up. He stood over her, his dark eyes warm and solemn, promising that he wouldn’t let her sink under the water and drown. She trusted him. 

Bellamy inclines his head, a fond smile on his lips. “You used to cling onto me. I was your personal floating device.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I was scared. But you taught me not to be.” 

He nods. “I told you that if you learned to swim, you didn’t have to be afraid of the water. It couldn’t hurt you.” 

Clarke takes his hand in hers. “There’s nothing be afraid of, Bell. We’re safe.” 

The next time the plane rattles, Bellamy squeezes her hand in his. She tries to breathe deeply, calmly, and he mimics her as he inhales, exhaling in slow breaths. 

She keeps watching him worriedly and he nods that he’s okay, his thumb sweeping across her knuckles in reassurance. 

Her stare is caught up in him. She has an artist’s eye and she can’t help but appreciate the beauty in front of her. 

Bellamy has always been beautiful, but it takes her breath away sometimes. Like right now. The way the sunlight slanting in from the window turns his eyes into warm honey. The lovely freckles scattered on his cheeks. 

Bellamy looks back at her as she stares at him. Their gazes lock and Clarke realizes their hands are still clasped together. A tingle runs up her arm. She doesn’t understand why she can’t look away—or why Bellamy doesn’t either. 

An unfamiliar voice breaks the trance they seem to be in. 

“Would you like a glass of champagne?” The stewardess asks.

They both startle at the unexpected interruption and the stewardess’s smile falters. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” 

“It’s fine,” Clarke assures her. “I’ll pass on the champagne though.” 

Her nose wrinkles at the sight and Bellamy chuckles to himself. “Yeah, I imagine you’re sick of the stuff by now.” 

The woman’s eyes fall on their joined hands. Clarke should have prepared herself when the stewardess sees the sparkling engagement ring still on her finger. Lexa doesn’t do anything in half-measures and the diamond is hard to miss. 

She gasps excitedly. “Oh, are you on your honeymoon? I should have guessed.” The stewardess winks. “You can’t take your eyes off each other!” 

Bellamy’s eyes widen in alarm. His expression is priceless and almost makes the reminder of her failed wedding worth it. 

Clarke presses her lips together so she won’t laugh. Bellamy tries to pull his hand away, but she doesn’t let him, tightening her grip. He shoots her a baffled look that Clarke ignores. 

Turning back toward the stewardess, Clarke flashes what she hopes is a love-sick smile. “Yeah, we are. We just got married yesterday!”

She leans in to nuzzle Bellamy’s cheek, really sell the happy newlyweds façade. It’s a lot more fun than admitting the truth to this stranger and wallowing her broken heart some more. At least, she thinks so, but Bellamy stiffens beside her when her nose grazes his cheek. 

The other woman offers her sincere congratulations and gushes over them. Since Clarke passed on the champagne, they’re given two complimentary cocktails on behalf of the stewardess. 

Bellamy keeps his mouth shut while they receive their drinks, his jaw clenching and unclenching. 

As soon as they’re alone again, he takes his hand back and asks her, “What are you doing, Clarke?” 

His reaction catches her off-guard. He looks genuinely bothered by the lie, instead of laughing and playing along like she thought he’d be. 

Clarke starts to feel guilty and maybe a bit self-pitying. Bellamy obviously doesn’t want to pretend to be her husband, even as a joke. 

_Stupid,_ she chides herself. She’s like a little sister to him, like O. She always has been. Of course, he doesn’t think it’s funny. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says immediately, her cheeks heating. “I thought it’d be fun to play along and get some free drinks…I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Bellamy’s expression softens. “It’s okay. Just, give a guy some warning next time.” 

He smirks at her and Clarke relaxes, her guilt dissipating. He’s not upset with her. 

She reaches for her drink and takes a sip, the coolness soothing the warmth in her face. Clarke didn’t think she could get more pathetic than being left at the altar. But here she is at twenty-five years old, still acting like a girl with a crush on her friend’s older brother. 

“You know,” Bellamy says thoughtfully, “it might not be a bad idea.” 

Clarke glances at him curiously. “What idea?” 

“Pretending to be married. I mean, it’s easier to explain than two friends on a honeymoon. We can just go along with it when we’re on the cruise.” 

Clarke studies him, surprised that he got on board so quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, offering her an easy smile. “It’s just pretend, right? We might score some more free stuff.” 

Clarke mirrors his smile. “I like the way you think, hubby.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Bellamy is an idiot. The stupidest guy on the cruise ship and possibly the entire Caribbean. 

He didn’t think this ruse through, he just jumped at the chance to _pretend_ to be Clarke’s husband. He couldn’t resist the opportunity. Because he is stupidly, hopelessly in love with her. 

In theory, the idea sounded like a dream come true, straight out of Bellamy’s fantasies. He and Clarke were alone for a week on a tropical vacation. When he suggested they go on the cruise, Bellamy hoped it would be good for Clarke to get away from the disastrous wedding and everyone’s pity. 

At the least, he hoped the trip would be a distraction. He had never seen her this devastated before and it killed him. And the selfish part of him would enjoy having Clarke to himself, maybe get to admire her gorgeous body tanning by a pool. It seemed like a win-win scenario. 

Bellamy realizes his mistake as soon as they check-in and reach their cabin. The honeymoon suite. 

The room is luxurious and complete with every amenity. Only Bellamy can’t enjoy any of it because the cabin has been decked out for Clarke’s romantic getaway to another woman. 

The reminders are everywhere—from the red rose petals arranged in a heart on the queen-sized bed to the chocolate covered strawberries and the _Just Married_ sign on the cabin door. 

His good mood rapidly deflates. Clarke wouldn’t be on this trip with him if she had another choice. Her first choice is _Lexa_ , the woman she is in love with. The woman that dumped her. It was foolish of Bellamy to think they could escape that. 

Clarke scowls at the door, just as unhappy about the reminder. She tears down the sign and charges inside the cabin, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. 

Bellamy follows after her. The air is tense in the suite, darkened by the ghost of Clarke’s former relationship hanging over their heads. They set down their bags and begin unpacking in silence. 

Bellamy is already regretting this idea. His best friend’s heartbreak is almost palpable between them as she folds her clothes into drawers, her eyes glassy. He so desperately wants to make it better for her, but he can’t think of how to. 

When there’s no unpacking left to do, Bellamy’s eyes fall on the bed again. The heart made of rose petals is such a cliché. He knows Clarke hates stuff like that. And suddenly Bellamy realizes how he can make this one, small thing better. 

He slips off his shoes and takes a running start onto the bed. The rose petals scatter onto the carpeted floor once Bellamy starts jumping up and down. 

Clarke’s head snaps up. She stares at him wide-eyed. “Bell, what are you _doing_?” 

Bellamy smirks at her. “What does it look like I’m doing, Princess? We’re breaking in the bed.” 

Her mouth curls into a small, amused smile. The sight sweeps through Bellamy like a sweet victory. He might look ridiculous jumping on the bed, but all he really cares about is this girl’s happiness. 

Clarke shakes her head as she watches him. “You idiot,” she says fondly. “You’re going to break your head open!”

“I’m only an idiot if I’m doing this by myself. Get up here!” 

Finally, she takes a running start across the cabin and leaps, letting Bellamy pull her up to join him. They bounce together, the bed rippling under them from their movements. Clarke laughs in genuine delight and it’s the best sound to his ears. 

They jump until they tire themselves out. Bellamy flops back on the bed to catch his breath. He’s not out-of-shape, exactly, but he’s not eighteen anymore either. He needs a minute. 

Clarke wanders around the rest of the cabin to explore. Her spirits are definitely lifted.

She calls out to him excitedly from inside the bathroom, “Wow! You have to see this tub, Bell. It’s _huge_.” 

That doesn’t give him inappropriate thoughts about Clarke soaking in a bathtub. Wet and naked. How soft her bare skin would feel under the warm water... Nope. He needs to think about something else. 

Bellamy tugs at his hair in frustration. He told himself he had to get over this when Clarke got engaged a year ago. He couldn’t pine after a married woman. 

No matter what he does, these feelings won’t go away. Like his love for Clarke Griffin is coded into his DNA, a vital part of him. For years, she is still the last thought he has before he falls asleep at night. The sight of her is like sunshine, lighting him up from inside. 

Dating Gina hasn’t helped. She’s amazing, but she’s not _Clarke_. And that is the only thing that matters to his heart. He can’t lie to himself about that. Bellamy just wants her. 

He hears Clarke’s husky laugh for the second time that day, echoing from the bathroom. “Oh my god. Bellamy, come here! You have to see this.” 

With a groan, Bellamy pushes himself to his feet and crosses the cabin. The bathroom is just as luxurious as everything else with a huge Jacuzzi tub and walk-in shower. He’s going to miss this when they leave. 

Clarke shows him what caught her attention. On the marble counter is a gift basket from the cruise line. His jaw drops at the sex paraphernalia packed inside. Condoms in different sizes, small bottles of lube, a red silk blindfold and matching handcuffs, and two waterproof vibrators. 

“Holy shit,” Bellamy mutters under his breath. 

Clarke snorts at him. “Yeah, I know. This cruise line is _really_ accommodating.” 

He looks away before she can spot the flush rising in his cheeks. All he can think about it using this stuff with Clarke to pleasure her. This is week is going to be a test to his sanity. 

Thank God his phone rings then. It gives Bellamy an excuse to escape the small bathroom with Clarke and the sex toys. He sees it’s Octavia calling and takes his phone out onto the balcony. 

“I have never been so happy to hear from you,” Bellamy answers. 

“Really?” His sister asks mockingly. “I’m not interrupting the _honeymooning?_ ” 

He sighs, running his hand down his face. “You’re saving me from making a dumb mistake.” 

“Too late for that,” Octavia mutters.

His sister made it known that she thinks the cruise is a horrible idea. One of his worst. Bellamy is inclined to agree with her, but he won’t tell her that. Octavia will just gloat her “ _I told you so’s_ ” and being entirely unsympathetic to his misery. 

“What are do you doing, Bell?” she asks him, softer now. “Do you expect her to fall into your arms now that Lexa’s out of the picture?”

“Of course not,” Bellamy scoffs. “That’s not why I’m doing this. This is for her, okay? She needs a distraction. Lexa _broke_ her, O. I had to do something.”

“Be her knight in shining armor, you mean?”

A growl erupts from the back of his throat. “That’s not—”

“Whatever you say,” Octavia cuts in. “Just be careful, big brother. I’m worried about Clarke. I don’t want to have to put you back together too.” 

His sister has nothing to worry about. His heart already broke the day Clarke agreed to marry someone else. His hope extinguished. 

Now Bellamy is here to take care of his best friend. Nothing more. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The first few days on the trip seem to be good for her. The cruise ship offers a lot of distractions during their downtime, which Bellamy is grateful for. 

During the day they lounge by the pool and drink cocktails. Bellamy orders drinks like Pink Panty Dropper and Slow Comfortable Screw just so Clarke can laugh at him. He likes the fruity taste anyway. Clarke lathers herself in lotion, but her pale skin still burns in the sun. 

They go to a comedy show on the first night and the second night is spent at the casino where Bellamy watches proudly as Clarke kicks ass at the poker table. 

They arrive on the beautiful island of Bermuda on the third day at sea. Bellamy is woken up early by Clarke shaking him, her voice tinged with excitement. 

“Bell, wake up. Come look!” 

He turns his face into his pillow, not fully awake. Hearing Clarke so happy still makes him smile despite the abrupt wake-up call. She gets excited over the little things and it’s adorable. 

He pushes himself up after a moment, rubbing the sleep out of his bleary eyes. “What is it?” 

Clarke beckons him over from the balcony. Yawning, he crosses over to join her and gets a breathtaking glimpse of the cerulean blue water surrounding the ship. 

They stand quietly together, looking out over the view of the island and lush, pink sand beach that awaits them. Clarke turns her head to look at him, her smile bright. Bellamy can’t resist tugging at the end of one of her short ponytails playfully. 

“What do you wanna do today?” 

“Everything,” Clarke answers. “We have to go snorkeling! And visit the beach, obviously. And I was reading about this tour they have in the capital city. We can check that out.” 

Bellamy isn’t sure how they’ll fit _everything_ of Bermuda into one day. But for Clarke, he’s willing to try. 

He’s rushed into getting dressed by his bossy best friend. She’s eager to get off the ship and start exploring. They eat a quick breakfast, grab their stuff from the room, and head downstairs.

The sun is burning brightly when they step outside. Only a few steps in and Bellamy is already thinking wistfully about the cool water. He rubs his sweaty palms against his shorts before Clarke gets the chance to grab his hand, towing him along behind her. 

Snorkeling is their first excursion. They’re taken out into the bay and given the chance to see the vibrant underwater reef, swimming alongside the fish and aquatic life. Bellamy is mesmerized by the experience and it’s even better being there with Clarke. 

After snorkeling, they have lunch on the island. Then Clarke starts asking about the historical tour they can take, despite Bellamy insisting that it’s not necessary.

Clarke just huffs at him. “Bell, I _know_ you want to see Fort Hamilton.” 

He does, but this trip isn’t about him. “We don’t have to – ”

She turns a deaf ear to his protests and buys the tickets for the tour. They’re part of a very small group that isn’t visiting the beach but instead going to an old fort. They get a pretty great view of Hamilton and the chance to walk through the tunnels, see the cannons used in past battles. 

Bellamy is fascinated by listening to their tour guide talk about the fort’s history. He waits for a quiet moment when Clarke is admiring the rooftop view to come to stand beside her. 

“Thanks,” he says softly.

Clarke smiles at him. “It’s your honeymoon too, Mr. Blake.” 

She winks before she turns away, oblivious as always to the way Bellamy’s eyes trail after her. She is so beautiful, her hair like spun gold in the sun. His chest aches with how much he wishes things were different. If only she was _his_. 

He has to stop himself before his thoughts get too depressing. They’re on a tropical vacation and neither of them is supposed to be wasting the trip wallowing. 

They end the day at the beach, squeezing in a couple of hours on the lush sand before it’s time to board the ship. 

Bellamy reclines on the bed, reading his book as he waits for Clarke to finish in the shower.

He forces his eyes to stay on the page when she emerges, smelling like coconut shampoo, wrapped in a fluffy towel. 

_Fuck. She smells amazing._

He stares at the same sentence, holding his breath as Clarke retrieves her clothes from the drawer.

In his periphery, he can see the water dribbling down her bare back and disappearing into the towel. Bellamy doesn’t exhale until the bathroom door shuts. 

They soon trade places and it takes a cold shower to get him back into Platonic Best Friend thoughts, where he is supposed to be. 

“What do you want to do after dinner?” He asks, straightening the collar of his shirt in the mirror. 

Clarke sits on the bed behind him, her head bowed. His question startles her out of a daze. That’s happened a few times this week. In the calm moments between distractions, Clarke slips away from him into sorrow and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“Oh. Um.” She blinks slowly, focusing on him. “Is it okay if we stay in? I’m kind of tired.” 

“Of course,” he says. “It’s been a long day.” 

They have dinner in the dining hall. Clarke is quiet, despite his best attempts to draw her into a conversation. He can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes. 

Bellamy knows she has to heal from this and that will take time. Still, he has to fight the thing that roars in his chest whenever Clarke is upset, demanding he does something, anything, to make it better for her. 

Silently, they walk back to the room together. Clarke lingers in the hallway as he fishes out their room key, her eyes distant. 

He lays a gentle hand on her arm. “You okay?” 

Absently, she nods. “I think I’m going to walk around for a while.” 

_Alone_ , goes unsaid. Bellamy swallows, ignoring the sting of her request. 

“Sure. Take your time. I’ll just hang out here.” 

He isn’t expecting it when Clarke presses a soft kiss to his cheek. He hovers in front of the door, stunned, as she walks down the hallway and disappears. 

Eventually, he finds his way inside. Bellamy changes into his sleepwear since it seems they won’t be going out that night. He doesn’t mind laying down with his book, distracting himself from the worry that clings to his mind for Clarke. 

It’s late when she comes back. His eyes are drooping, barely staying open. The door opening startles him from falling asleep with his book in his lap. 

Clarke slips inside. Her eyes widen when she catches sight of him, sitting up in the bed.

“Oh, Bell. You didn’t have to wait up for me.” 

He shrugs, slotting in his bookmark. “Just wanted to make sure you got back okay.” 

Her expression softens as she looks at him. That look makes him turn his face away, his cheeks warm as he remembers the brush of her lips. 

His averted gaze lands on her hands, wringing in front of her. That’s when he notices the missing engagement ring. 

Bellamy inhales sharply. “Where’s your ring?” 

Clarke bites her lip. She rubs at the bare finger like she’s still getting used to the feeling. “I may have dropped it into the ocean.” 

“You _what_?” 

“It was symbolic or whatever,” she explains. “I don’t know. It felt cathartic. And I wasn’t going to let Lexa have the ring back so…I dropped it in.” 

Bellamy’s brows draw over his eyes as he studies her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Clarke shrugs, hugging her arms close to herself as she comes over to sit next to him. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Walking around the ship helped clear my head. Getting left at the altar sucks, but I don’t think it was the worst thing that could have happened.” 

“Really?” 

She nods. “Lexa and I had a lot of problems. I got so caught up in the wedding planning, I ignored them. I guess I thought getting married would solve everything. But if we had gone through with it…I doubt we would have lasted.” 

Privately, Bellamy agrees. He always thought they were wrong for each other. He’d be accused of being biased, so he never brought it up. 

He listened when Clarke came to him and complained that she'd never live up to Lexa's first love, Costia. She felt like Lexa was constantly comparing them. 

“No,” Bellamy says softly. “I don’t think you would have.” 

Clarke turns her gaze up to him, her smile rueful. “You hated her.” 

“I hated how she made you feel,” he corrects. “You deserved better, Princess. You deserve to be someone's first choice. Their only choice.” 

Clarke's blue eyes turn glassy with tears. She says nothing to that. Maybe she doesn't believe him, not yet. Her bottom lip trembles with unspoken emotion. 

She lays down on the bed, gesturing for Bellamy to join her. He sets his book aside so he can lie down with her and Clarke scoots over to tuck against his side. He gets an inhale of her coconut shampoo, her cheek pressed to his chest.

He hopes she can’t feel how fast his heart is beating. They cuddle a lot and have shared a bed before this trip, but Bellamy never gets used to it. The euphoria of having her in his arms. 

“Thank you for being here,” she murmurs. “I don’t think I could have survived this without you.” 

“You could have. You’re the strongest person I know.” 

Clarke lets her head roll back against his shoulder, peering up at him with those bright eyes. “Maybe. I feel my strongest with you, though.” 

Her words stay with him, warmth flooding his chest until he falls asleep. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next morning, he wakes up before she does. They’re still tangled together under the covers, his arm wrapped around her stomach, her leg hooked around his. During the night Clarke must have turned over and now her warm body is pressed against his front. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened. They’ve been sharing a bed for days. 

It could be wonderful—if Bellamy isn’t so hard. The curve of her ass is nestled right against his dick. It takes all of his self-control not to thrust and provide some much-needed relief. 

This would be an entirely different situation if he wasn’t her just her friend. He’d be able to press soft kisses to the back of her neck, slide those flimsy sleep shorts off her hips and pleasure her with his fingers or his mouth before she’s begging for him to bury himself inside her. 

His cock twitches at the thoughts in his head. He has to stop himself. This is his reality. Clarke would be horrified if she woke up to his morning wood. He has to get away before she notices. 

Bellamy lets go of her waist. Slowly, he disentangles himself and scoots back on the bed. Clarke sleeps like the dead, so she doesn’t stir when he stands up and disappears into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. 

He pulls his sweatpants down enough to get his cock free, curling a fist around himself. His head is filled with Clarke. With how turned-on he is, he can’t even bother to think about someone else. He aches for her. 

Bellamy tugs at his cock in frantic pumps. He’s too frustrated to take it slow. He thinks about Clarke underneath him, pink mouth dropped open as he thrusts inside her. The little noises she’d make as he made her feel good. Her gorgeous body all naked and writhing for him. 

What he wouldn’t give to feel her come around his cock. It’s her he imagines instead of his hand as his hips jerk forward, his pleasure hitting its peak. 

Bellamy groans her name as he comes hard, spilling over his fist. 

Then his orgasm fades and the guilt sinks in. 

Bellamy feels terrible as he cleans himself up. He shouldn’t think about Clarke like that when he gets off. He knows it’s wrong. But every time, it still happens. He doesn’t want anyone but her. 

He stays in the bathroom a little longer to get himself together, splashing water on his flushed face and brushing his teeth. When he emerges, Clarke is sitting up in bed. His pulse skips, fearing that she might have heard him. 

She smiles sleepily at him. “Hey.” 

He nods, swallowing down his guilt. “Hey. You feeling better?” 

“Yeah. I got a good night of sleep.” 

“That’s good.” 

Bellamy avoids her eyes as she slips out of bed, stretching her arms. Clarke brushes past him to enter the bathroom. 

_Three more days._ The realization fills him both with dread and relief. Three more days of torture and having her all to himself.

At the next port, they spend most of the beautiful day at the beach, basking in the sun. Bellamy reads his book as Clarke lays out on a chair beside him.

His concentration is shot the moment she unties the strings of her bikini top. 

Bellamy chokes on air. “What - what are you doing?” 

Clarke gives him an amused look, sunglasses over her eyes. “Getting rid of my tan lines.” 

She is completely topless as she lays on her stomach. Bellamy wishes he was a stronger man. He isn’t though. He has to walk down the beach and plunge into the water to cool himself off. 

She seems determined to torture him as much as possible with what time they have left. That night before dinner, Clarke emerges from the bathroom and his heart stops. 

Her hair is pinned up, a few blonde curls framing her face. She has on a strapless blue dress that makes her eyes shine and Bellamy has to admire her effort at the beach. There are no tan lines in sight. Just smooth skin and the most gorgeous woman in the world. 

Slowly, Bellamy finds his voice. “You look beautiful.” 

Clarke ducks her head, hiding her smile. “Thank you. You look rather handsome, Mr. Blake.” 

He’s wearing his nicest pants and a button-down dress shirt. The way Clarke’s eyes glide over him makes him feel like putting on a suit for her every day. Pride inflates his chest. Bellamy has never considered himself ugly, but the moments where Clarke seems to admire his looks make him giddy. 

They’re supposed to be having a formal night in the dining hall. Playing it up, Bellamy sweeps a bow and offers Clarke his arm before they leave the room. She swats at him. Still, her arm hooks through his and they walk down to dinner together. 

It’s only as they’re approaching the hall that Clarke tells him it’s supposed to be a private honeymoon dinner in a separate room. 

“Oh.” Bellamy stops. “We don’t have to go—”

“Are you kidding?” Clarke scoffs. “The dinner is paid for. Of course, we’re going!” 

She tugs on his arm to get them moving again. The hostess calls them Mr. and Mrs. Griffin when they arrive, which makes Clarke smirk at him. He probably doesn’t hide how much he likes it. They’re led to a small dining room where they’ll be completely alone. 

“This is cozy,” Clarke comments as they take their seats at the clothed table. 

Romantic is the word that comes to his mind. The lighting is dim in the room, cast in a warm glow by the candles on the table. There’s a bottle of vintage champagne sitting in an ice bucket. It feels like they’re on a real date. 

The waiter winks at them as he pours glasses of water. “I hope you and your husband have a lovely evening, Mrs. Griffin.” 

“ _Mrs. Griffin_ ,” Clarke mocks when he’s gone. “I always thought Griffin-Blake sounded better.” 

Bellamy glances up from the menu and blinks. He must have heard her wrong. “Griffin-Blake?” 

She nods, taking a sip of water. “Yeah, our last names hyphenated. That’s how I always imagined it when I pictured us getting married.” 

He’s gotten too much sun at the beach. He must be hallucinating. Because there’s no way that Clarke just casually admitted to thinking about _marrying_ him. As if that was something that was in the plan for them and he just missed it. 

“Clarke...what are you talking about?” 

She notices his expression and laughs. “Oh. Don’t freak out. I just meant when I was younger and had the biggest crush on you.” 

“You didn’t have a crush on me.” 

“Yes, I did,” she argues. “Come on. You knew.” 

He’s stunned. “I absolutely did not.”

The world shifts under his feet, not unlike the rocking of the waves beneath the cruise ship. Only this is caused by the knowledge that Clarke Griffin had romantic feelings for him. _Had_. In the past tense. And he never knew about it. 

“How long?” Bellamy demands. 

Clarke finally seems to realize that he didn’t know. Her eyes widen slightly. She bites her lip like she doesn’t want to tell him now. 

They’re given a temporary reprieve from the conversation when another waiter joins them. He pops open the bottle of champagne and pours them each a glass. His congratulations on their fake wedding fall on deaf ears. 

Bellamy asks him for more time before they order and the waiter leaves them alone, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

Clarke fiddles with the charm on her necklace. For the first time that week, she is the one avoiding his gaze. But Bellamy needs to know. 

“ _Clarke_ ,” he presses. “How long?” 

“I don’t know. Like, all of high school.”

Four years. Four years of their friendship, of him driving her and Octavia to school every day, of passing her in the hallway when he was a senior and tugging playfully on her curls.

No. That’s impossible. She was dating Finn during that time. Bellamy was just the older brother to her. He taught her how to drive a stick. He used to glower at her dates and threaten them against hurting her. He kept an eye on her at parties and always looked after her, even when she found him overprotective. 

Bellamy looks back on their past together with new eyes. He can’t fit this knowledge of Clarke liking him into his memories. It’s like asking him to believe the sky is green. 

“Did O know?” 

Clarke’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “Yeah. She used to tease me about it mercilessly. God, Bellamy. _Everybody_ knew. You just didn’t notice me.”

“That’s not true.” 

As if she isn’t one of the two most important people in the world to him. She’s Clarke. Seeing her is the best part of his day and that has been true for a long time. He has _always_ noticed her in a room and in his heart. 

The subject drops when the waiter returns. They stumble their way through their dinner orders. Silence swells in between them. Clarke drinks two glasses of champagne. Bellamy doesn’t know what to say. 

Clarke kicks at his ankle when they’re eating. “Stop being weird.” 

“I’m not.” 

“You _are_.” She frowns at him. “I never should have told you.” 

Bellamy tries to make his head stop spinning. He doesn’t mean to be acting off or making Clarke feel embarrassed about her confession. But it’s not like he can blurt out that he’s in love with her either. 

He forces a teasing smirk onto his lips. “Did you write Mrs. Griffin-Blake all over your notebooks?” 

She kicks his ankle harder this time. “No. I was fourteen not five.” 

“Did you have our wedding all picked out? Was O going to be your maid of honor?” 

“Shut up.” Clarke scrunches her nose at him. “Okay, I take it back. I liked it better when you were quiet.” 

Bellamy keeps teasing her through dessert. It breaks up any lingering awkwardness and brings them back into their natural rhythm. Clarke admits to _hating_ his ex-girlfriend Roma during high school and that has him grinning smugly to himself. 

“You can think of this as our first date,” Bellamy murmurs into her ear as they’re strolling back to the cabin. He’s definitely thinking of it that way and doesn’t care how pathetic it is. 

Clarke tilts her head back to smirk at him. “Too bad it’s not a real one. I would have put out.” 

She’s going to give him a heart attack. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Clarke is having more fun than she thought she would. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Bellamy makes everything better—even her fake honeymoon. 

As the days go on, she finds herself thinking of her ex-fiancee less and less. It will take time for the wound of being left at the altar to heal. There’s no fast-forward button or magic pill she can take. But there is a relief that sinks in while she’s away from her old life. 

Clarke thinks she might have been in love with the idea of getting married. The romance of it all swept her away. Being married to Lexa is something different and a part of her is relieved that she didn’t have to go through with it after all. 

The morning after their private dinner, Clarke wakes up with an ache in her sides. She laughed so much last night. The dinner was lovely, even with her crush being blurted out like that. Bellamy didn’t freak out as much as he could have. 

She doesn’t know how he was so oblivious. Octavia was never subtle about her teasing. Finn was jealous and paranoid about her closeness with Bellamy. Even Lexa accused her of still having feelings for her best friend. 

It seemed like everybody knew how she felt, pining after the guy that saw her as a little sister. 

Bellamy never looked twice at her. They grew apart after he left for college and she was able to squash her crush. Mostly. 

Clarke was too happy to rekindle her friendship with him when they were adults living in the same city. She had her best friend again. So maybe her heart still flutters when Bellamy smiles his special smile for her and she’s still a bit jealous of the girls he dates. 

She’s had those feelings forever. They say your first love never goes away. 

Clarke made her peace with being a little bit in love with Bellamy for the rest of their lives. 

She realizes her feelings for him may not be as dormant as she’d like when she’s soaking in the large bath tub. The lavender bath salts in the water provide a calming aroma. Clarke is relaxed and alone, listening to soft music as Bellamy takes a nap inside the cabin. 

Only instead of closing her eyes, her gaze is drawn to the gift basket left beside the tub. They moved it to the floor on the first day and forgot about it. 

Well, Clarke hasn’t forgotten about it. The contents of that basket leaked into her subconscious. She had a dream last night featuring the pack of large condoms and Bellamy’s cock.

Sometime after Clarke had rolled the condom on him with her teeth—a talent only her dream-self has—Bellamy used the handcuffs to chain her to their bed. 

Clarke was disappointed when she woke up and didn’t find any red handprint marks on her ass. Bellamy didn’t actually spank her or use the handcuffs on her or fuck her. It was just a dream. 

But Clarke is able to make use of the memories now. Her hand drifts down her chest, using a thumb to brush across her nipple. She teases the hard peaks, thinking about Bellamy’s tongue and the wet suction of his mouth on her tits. 

Arousal throbs in her cunt. Clarke dips her left hand into the warm bath water and parts herself open with slick fingers. A moan falls from her parted lips, her breaths growing heavy as she runs her fingers up her slit and finally presses against her clit. 

Clarke works her clit in slow, teasing circles. She has this bath and all the time she needs to enjoy herself. Her body shivers in anticipation for the orgasm she’s going to build to, all the while treasuring every bolt of pleasure that zaps down her spine. 

And the remnants of her dream are right where she left them. Clarke thinks of Bellamy—his large, rough fingers replacing her own and his deep voice murmuring dirty words into her ear. Her hand moves faster, vibrating on her clit. 

“ _Bellamy_ ,” Clarke moans, her head tossing back. 

She imagines his mouth trailing hot, wet kisses over her throat, biting at her skin. She’d sink her fingers into his thick curls and beg for more. 

Lust burns through her. There’s something dirty and indulgent in thinking about Bellamy while she touches herself. It’s been so long since she’s done this. It feels like giving in, letting herself fantasize about who she really wants after holding back. 

When Clarke is nearing the edge, she reaches for one of the waterproof vibrators and flicks it on. She didn’t pack her vibrator for this trip. It’s nice of the cruise line to provide them with two. 

Her toes curl from the vibrator’s electric buzz, sharp on her clit. Moans are bursting out of her uncontrollably as her orgasm swells hot and tight in her core. 

“Bell, oh god,” Clarke gasps. “I’m gonna come.” 

Her hips cant forward, chasing her release. She feels the tension snap inside her and pleasure pulses through her veins. Clarke comes hard with her best friend’s name on her lips. 

Her head falls against the back of the tub with a thud. Clarke is breathless and spent, her limbs still tingling and cunt fluttering with aftershock waves. She turns off the vibrator and drops it into the basket, to be cleaned when she isn’t exhausted. 

She must doze off. The knocking on the bathroom door has her eyes snapping open. 

“Princess?” Bellamy calls. 

A bolt of arousal passes through her stomach at his raspy voice. God, how good he would sound in bed. Better than a pathetic fantasy. 

Clarke has to clear her throat before she speaks, ignoring the heat pooling in her face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Just making sure you’re okay. Dinner is starting soon.” 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be right out.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

On the last night before the cruise ends, they’re having another delicious meal in the dining hall. She’s going to miss this food, almost as much as waking up to Bellamy every morning. 

In the center of the room, musicians are plucking at their instruments and setting the mood for the guests. Clarke turns her eyes to Bellamy once they’re through with their meal. 

“Bell, dance with me.” 

He snorts. “That’s not happening.” 

“I’m your _wife_ ,” she points out. “Aren’t you supposed to be making me happy?” 

A couple sitting beside them chuckles. Bellamy shakes his head, smirking at her. 

He leads her to the middle of the room with his hand pressed to the small of her back. Another elderly couple is swaying together to the soft instrumental music. His hands slide to her waist and Clarke rests hers comfortably around his neck. 

The world falls away when she looks up into Bellamy’s deep brown eyes. This feels right. She fits into his arms like she belongs there and they move together like this is a dance they already know all of the steps to. 

Clarke lets her head rest in the crook of Bellamy’s neck. Her eyes close. Bellamy tightens his hold on her waist and she’s never felt this peaceful or cared for. They dance together until the slow song shifts into a faster beat. 

Bellamy’s intense look makes her shiver. It’s the way she always dreamed he’d look at her. His arms are still around her and all it takes is her leaning closer, pushing up on her toes to brush her lips over his. 

She kisses him softly. Her hands glide up from his neck into his hair, tangling through the thick curls that she loves.

Bellamy makes a startled noise of surprise. He is still for a few seconds before he snaps out of it and then he is kissing her back hungrily. 

His passion makes her gasp against his lips. It feels like years of longing and unspoken words have burst free between them. With a groan, Bellamy pulls her closer and they’re flushed together, her skin tingling at every point they’re touching. 

Suddenly, he breaks their kiss and steps away from her. Clarke feels cold all over. 

“I can’t do this,” Bellamy says, his voice cracking. 

Her tongue feels slow, not forming the words fast enough. “What...what are you talking about?” 

He shoves his fingers through his hair, pulling on the strands. Already she misses feeling the texture under her fingertips. 

But the frustration written all over her best friend’s face is more important. “I’ll always be here for you,” he promises. “But I can’t be your rebound after Lexa. I’m sorry.” 

Bellamy’s eyes darken at her ex-fiancée’s name. Clarke can’t believe she never noticed the pain inside them until now. How blind has she been? She’s too stunned to speak and Bellamy takes that as his answer. 

He turns away from her, disappearing into the sea of dining tables before she can stop him. 

Clarke presses her fingers to her lips. There’s no mistaking the passion and urgency that Bellamy kissed her with. Like he had been waiting to do this for as long as she has. 

How could he think that he’d be a _rebound_ to her? As if she could ever use him for something so meaningless. Bellamy will always be her first choice. 

She can’t have him thinking otherwise. With resolve solidifying inside her, Clarke breaks away from the dance floor and goes after him. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Clarke finds him standing alone at the back of the ship. Bellamy is leaning against the railing and staring moodily out at the moving waves. The slight breeze tousles his dark curls. 

Her heart trips in her chest. This is Bellamy. _Her_ Bellamy. The possibility of him having real feelings for her is as terrifying as the depths of the ocean they’re sailing over. 

She wants it to be true more than she’s ever wanted anything. 

Clarke approaches, leaning on the railing beside him. “I’m not sorry for kissing you.” 

Bellamy looks at her in surprise, his lips threatening to pull into a grimace. She goes on before he gets the chance to misunderstand her again. 

“I’m only sorry for making you think it meant something else,” she finishes, reaching out to lay her hand over his. “I love you, Bellamy.” 

He stares at her with the intensity that makes it hard to breathe. Then his mouth quirks into a rueful smile. “Not like how I love you. It’s okay, Princess.” 

_He loves her._

Bellamy’s thumb brushes across her knuckles, leaving tingles in his wake. He tries to give her a reassuring smile, despite the pain in his eyes.

“We’ll always be friends. You don’t have to worry about losing me. Ever. I won’t leave you.” 

“But I do,” Clarke says. “I do love you. I know it’s soon after everything and I understand if you don’t believe me yet. But I'm _in love_ with you, Bellamy.” 

A confused pucker appears in between his brows. “No, you’re not.” 

She can’t help but laugh. Clarke presses a kiss to his cheek affectionately. “Oh, Bell. You’re amazing and you don’t even _see_ it. I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. Everything I said about high school was true. My feelings have never gone away.” 

Bellamy’s expression is full of wonder. “You...you really mean that?” 

“I love you,” she says again, loving the way his eyes light up when he hears it. “So much.” 

Bellamy kisses her, cupping her cheek in her hand. He’s smiling too widely for them to kiss properly and pulls back to breathe, “God, Clarke, I’ve been in love with you forever. I never thought…” 

No, she didn’t either. Hearing Bellamy say it out loud sends a swirl of giddiness through her. Somehow, what was supposed to be the worst week of her life turned out to be the best. 

Clarke draws him into another, deeper kiss. Her hands curl into Bellamy’s hair as he strokes his palm down her back. He parts her lips to sweep his tongue inside and a moan spills out of her. They’re greedy for the taste of each other, pressed as close as they can be. 

“We still have that honeymoon suite for one more night,” Clarke suggests when they break apart, breathless. 

Bellamy grins. “I’m married to the smartest woman in the world.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know you think!
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](http://www.kombellarke.tumblr.com) ❤️


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